


Ask a Scientist (it's quantum physics)

by out_there



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-15
Updated: 2005-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things Donna knows; there are others that she doesn't want to admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask a Scientist (it's quantum physics)

**Author's Note:**

> Finished as part of the [](http://community.livejournal.com/wip_it_good/profile)[**wip_it_good**](http://community.livejournal.com/wip_it_good/) challenge (I just forgot to get it beta'd). Thanks to [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/) and [](http://celli.livejournal.com/profile)[**celli**](http://celli.livejournal.com/) for support. Thanks to Ben Lee for the title. Huge thanks to [](http://meadowlion.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://meadowlion.livejournal.com/)**meadowlion** for tracking down my stray tenses, correcting my comma-usage, and making this story far more readable.

Donna knows that Josh likes her. Not just in the 'thank god you're my capable assistant and can deal with this for me' way. It's more of an 'if I wasn't your boss' and 'if we were in a bar somewhere' kind of way.

It's not a big thing. On the level of things that they handle daily, it's just a small thrill (or annoyance, depending on her mood) that makes up part of the background of her job.

She wouldn't act on it. Sure, Josh can be cute and charming (arrogant, but charming), but she isn't really tempted. It's simply a nice thought: even when she has come into the office as early as Josh, even when she has stayed late, even when they have worked their way through the night and still had to come in the next day (while she feels as if death would be a mercy), there's someone who finds her desirable. She may feel flighty and out of control, or efficient and powerful, throwing her weight around, but there's still someone who wants her.

It doesn't need to be the kind of passion where she'd sell her soul for the person. It just reminds her that there's more to her than her job. She loves this job, loves being in the centre of the action, loves knowing that she's damn good at what she does, but she doesn't want it to be her entire life.

***

It comes as a shock when Josh actually asks her out. Asks her for dinner and drinks, as if she was any blonde he'd met in a bar. It offends her slightly that he seemingly forgets that she's a person he knows well, that he suddenly treats her as another woman to bed using a quick flash of dimples and that good old Lyman charm.

But she's curious too. It's like a train wreck: you shouldn't look, but you can't help wanting to know how bad it could possibly be.

She hasn't been on a date in months, and she can't help thinking that she could do with the practice. So she says yes and tries not to feel like she's getting Amy's leftovers.

***

She feels a little strange getting ready that night. It's scary how easily she has slipped into the pattern of seizing early nights when she can, of retreating to her bed with snacks and the television. It takes her a while to work out what to wear, but the hair and makeup come easier to her. She only forgets for a second why she can't wear the caramel pumps that make her calves look incredible (they're impossible to stand in for over twenty minutes), before she reaches for the black ones.

Her roommate passes her in the corridor and asks what the big occasion is. Donna laughs it off as a blind date.

The meal is good: classy restaurant, not too intimate and not too busy. Their conversation falls into the quick banter that comes easily to them. Neither of them drinks too much, and the evening ends at an hour that's only just this side of decent.

Josh drives her home and kisses her goodnight. He doesn't push for more, and she doesn't ask him up.

***

The next time they go out to a movie; it's one more thing to talk about and quibble over.

The time after that they go to a little Italian place that serves great pizza. They talk about anything and everything, as long as it isn't too personal or too political.

It (this thing between them) falls into an easy rhythm. They work together and go out on a Friday, or a Saturday, if work commitments allow. They keep it quiet from everyone, because really, it's none of their business. And the fewer people they tell, the less likely they are to see it in the papers.

They don't sleep together, but the kisses are nice, and it's another reminder that there is life beyond the White House (even if it is all mixed up in the White House anyway). Sometimes, she thinks it's more of a friendship than anything else, and that doesn't seem so bad.

***

Donna waits for Josh to end it. She's not a fool. She knows that they aren't going anywhere. If anything, they're both just treading water, keeping themselves busy until something better comes along.

She's surprised that he doesn't end it.

***

Eventually, she works out what's important to Josh by what he doesn't talk about. He can talk about using dirty politics, but won't mention the vote that he left too late and did too little to change. He'll mention his mom, but won't talk about his father. He'll talk about Mandy and Amy, but ignores the fact that he was shot.

She finds herself following his example, playing by these self-imposed rules. She doesn't tell him that she really liked Cliff, and that as a result, there were a few weeks when she really hated her job. She doesn't tell him how glad she was every time Josh rode in on a white charger to save her (or how disappointed she is that this, whatever it is between them, couldn't have meant more). And she doesn't mention Sam, because Josh doesn't either.

She doesn't say that she never expected to miss Sam this much. She never says that she walks past his office a couple times a day, and sometimes it just doesn't feel right without him in it. She likes Will, she really does, but it's not the same. Josh just acts as if everything is fine, and she wonders if he notices that the others miss Sam, that Toby comes into Josh's office or CJ's far more frequently, looking for a second opinion that isn't there. If Josh hears that moment of silence when they all discuss an idea, that split second where they still expect Sam to interrupt, to act as the conscience for the entire administration, to be heard and dismissed. They all miss him -- they just won't admit it.

And she only admits it to herself. She knows that she misses Sam, but there are enough day-to-day dramas to distract her. So when Sam calls her up out of the blue (on a Sunday) and invites her to lunch, she finds herself grinning and scribbling down a restaurant address.

***

Sam looks great. Big smile, eyes twinkling, and she can't help commenting on the improved tan. She remembers the ever-present tan from the first time she met him. Her first impression was of a model straight out of GQ, from those photos that try to convince men that you can earn over $100,000 a year and still have time to party as if you were a junior in college. Then Sam had started to talk, and tripped over his own feet, and she'd had to revise her opinion of him.

"I've been sailing. That's where the new tan's from."

Even though it's Sunday, there's a part of her that expected him to be in a suit. It's an ingrained habit. Instead, he's wearing jeans and a sweatshirt rolled up to his elbows. It makes her think that he's not that much younger than Josh, but Josh looks far too old. "I didn't know you still did that."

"Sailing?" She nods, and Sam leads them to a table. "Yeah, I just… ran out of time for it, I guess." He pauses to pick up a menu from the table, then looks up at her. "Only twenty-four hours in a day, that kind of thing."

"Yeah."

And this is where it should get awkward, but instead, Sam's asking what she wants to order and is dithering between the chicken and the seafood.

"I'd go with the chicken, Sam. You can't go wrong with chicken."

Sam looks sceptically at her and points out, "You could overcook it, or you could undercook it, and the idea of raw chicken…"

"Is more appetising than the idea of raw fish."

"Except for sushi."

She smiles. "Are you ordering sushi?"

"No," Sam says and looks slightly chagrined. "Chicken it is."

They order, and she asks about Sam's new job. He tells her about it, about the big picture, about what they do, and smiles when he tells her about working in LA, amongst constant sunshine and movie stars. She tries to remember the last time he looked so proud, or so pleased, when talking about his job. She realises it's been years since he talked about the White House like that.

He tells her that he's had a job offer from the EPA, to work in their headquarters in Washington.

"You could be moving back here?" she asks, sipping her lemonade.

"I'm thinking about it. It's not a bad offer, but…"

"You're happy with what you're doing now?"

Sam shrugs. "It'd be interesting, challenging. I thought I'd take a week, come over, gather more information. Get a feel for it, you know? See if I could cope with the colder weather."

Then he asks how her life's going, and she talks about it. Because Sam's been there, he knows what it's like. He knows how CJ can fake it to the press and that senators should be wary when Toby's out for blood. It's only when Sam doesn't know about the thing with Hindmarsh that she realises that he's been there but he's not in the midst of it anymore. It's a strange thing to suddenly realise, even though she's known it all along. From the fond smile, that doesn't bother him as much as she thought it would.

The food arrives, and he asks, "So what about the rest of your life? You know, family, friends? The stuff we don't get paid for?"

The question takes her by surprise. What surprises her is that he had to ask, that she probably wouldn't have mentioned it. Then Sam leans over the table and conspiratorially stage-whispers, "Special friends?" The way he wiggles his eyebrows as he says it makes her burst into laughter.

Holding up three fingers, she says, "The family's well. I saw them last Thanksgiving. We had a big family gathering. I'd forgotten I had so many cousins."

She lowers one finger, has a mouthful of salad and then continues, "Well, the friends that I don't work with… Actually, I haven't seen them in a while. I meant to get together with them weeks ago, but it's been a bit busy." Another finger goes down.

Sam nods, picking at his chicken. "Yeah, it can get a bit hectic. And…?" he prompts.

"And…" She lowers the last finger and spears a tomato with her fork, trying to work out what to say, how to say it.

"Hey, you weren't finished with that one," Sam says, looking pointedly at her hand.

"My mother taught me it was rude to point, Sam Seaborn."

"Oh, okay. Go on." He smiles at her remark, and gestures for her to continue.

"I'm seeing someone." She's hedging around the question and knows it.

Sam watches her, then turns his attention back to his plate. "What's he like?"

"He's nice. I mean, he can be a bit of jerk sometimes, but he's nice to me." She stares at her salad, picking the lettuce apart, peeling the layers of leaves back to find the remaining bits of tomato. "It's just this regular, weekly thing. It's not… It's not really serious." She's not sure what else to say, so she lets the conversation trail off.

Sam shrugs, and doesn't push her. "Not every relationship has to be the love of a lifetime. If it was, each break up would be far too hard."

"Yeah, but…" I knew it wasn't going to be real, she wants to say. I wanted it to be, but it isn't. Sam's brows are lowered, and he's picking at his potatoes with intense concentration. For some reason, that's what reassures her. "I know it's never going to be anything and there's no real reason to keep seeing him. I just don't want to be the one to break it off."

There's a moment where he looks up and doesn't say anything. And it's just Sam. Sam, who has listened to her talk before but never tried to criticize Josh to her, even when Josh deserved it. Who had never lost patience with her and the inane facts that stick in her mind, who frequently had inane facts of his own to offer and discuss.

It's Sam, who isn't judging her, and never really has. "Well, he's not in love with you, right?"

She snorts in disbelief of the very idea. "Nope. He won't admit it, but he isn't." She wonders if she's being unfair to Josh. "He cares about me, just not…"

"Not in the right way?"

She nods but doesn't want to say anything. She's wondering what Sam's thinking.

"Then you're not doing anyone any harm. You're not being dishonest to him. You're enjoying his company. Nothing wrong with that."

"You think?" For some reason, that cheers her up immensely. She smiles as she pushes away her plate and decides that she's finished.

"Yeah." Sam sounds as if he believes it, and that's good enough for her. "Just make sure that you don't get confused. Don't let yourself believe that it's the real thing just because it's easy and convenient. Don't settle for something less, just because you can."

She reaches over for her juice and watches Sam, but he's looking out the window at a couple sitting outside. They're dressed for the warm weather, and the guy leans over to feed her a strawberry. Donna can't remember if she's ever been that obviously in love with someone.

"Don't settle. I did it with Lisa. It's why we never would have worked. I was with someone I didn't really love, in a job I didn't love, and doing it because it was easy. People expected it of me, and I could achieve these things without really trying, without risking myself. It's simple and safe, but you have to take the risk. You have to take the chance that it won't work, that you'll walk away hurt and disheartened, because if you don't, there's no point. The victories are hollow. The defeats don't mean anything, but the successes don't make you happy either."

That's probably the most that he's told her about Lisa. Sam doesn't talk about New York much. He talks about the campaign, he talks about working as a congressional aide in college, he talks about his family and growing up, but he doesn't talk much about Lisa. She realises that it's not because he doesn't want people to know about it, it's just that he wasn't very happy. "You really believe that one true love is out there? That it's not just something made up by romance novels and women's magazines?"

Sam laughs and finishes the last mouthful of his potatoes. "It's there. It's just that most people aren't lucky enough to have it. They don't take the challenge and won't risk the pain, so they never find it. But I know it's there."

That's the thought that stays in her mind, even as she offers to split the bill and he refuses, even as they gather their things and leave the place, even as he offers her a ride and she decides to walk for a bit. As she turns the key in her lock and opens her front door, the idea is still in her mind, bouncing back and forth over conversations she's had with Josh, making her wonder if she believes it.

***

Monday morning is busy (as always), and she doesn't get a chance to speak to Josh until lunchtime. He's busy (his morning has been full of appointments, and there are another three booked after lunch), so she brings him a sandwich and sits down while he eats it.

"I saw Sam on the weekend," she says. Josh nods and takes another bite. "He said he was going to give you a call."

Josh swallows and reaches across his desk for the paper napkin. "Yeah, got the message on my machine. Haven't had time to call him back yet."

"You could call him now."

He frowns as if she's crazy, then waves a pale hand at the stack of files in front of him as he wolfs down the last of his roast beef on rye.

She finished her sandwich and stands up. "Maybe after the meetings?" she suggests hopefully, but Josh is already reading through one of the folders.

***

CJ invites them all over to her place for dinner on Thursday night with a promise of takeaway Chinese food. It sounds great to Donna, who RSVPs immediately. When she mentions it to Josh, he tells her he already knew, but can't come: there's an early meeting Friday, and he needs to prepare.

Donna pushes her hair away from her face and tells him it's a pity, because Sam will be there. So will Bonnie, Margaret, CJ, Toby and Will. She tells Josh they'll have a great time without having to worry about his delicate constitution, and Josh just rolls his eyes.

***

She reminds Josh to call Sam; Josh ignores her or fobs her off with work. Eventually, she wears him down, and he shrugs, leaning one arm on the wall. She repeats that Sam's only in town for a week or so, and hands Josh the number, again.

When she asks him that night, he tells her to stop bugging him. She says she will, as soon as he calls. Then she threatens to dial the phone for him, if that's what it takes. Half an hour later, he hands the Post-It note back to her, saying he left a message for Sam.

Donna grins and teases him that it wasn't so hard after all.

***

Thursday drags. Bonnie and Ginger notice it, too. Margaret says it's because of CJ's dinner that night, and that anticipation gives an hour ninety minutes. Donna blinks at that piece of chirpy advice, but she understands Margaret's point.

Donna spends most of the day getting senators on the phone for Josh, and the rest of it gathering files for him. For once, he's too busy to explain why he's doing whatever he's doing, but she's sure she'll hear all about it tomorrow.

When seven-thirty comes, Donna goes to see CJ, who is stretched out on the couch, stocking-covered feet hanging over the end as she reads notes for tomorrow. She looks up at Donna, her small glasses perched halfway down her nose. On any other woman, it would appear Granny-ish. Somehow, CJ makes it attractive. "Hey," CJ says, pulling off her glasses. "Does Josh need something?"

"Apart from a winning lottery ticket and a harem of women?" she asks, and CJ grins. "He's fine."

CJ nods. "Okay." The question is all in the way she watches Donna, the slightly raised brows.

"I thought we were having dinner at your place."

"Yeah, but that's not 'til--" CJ looks at her watch, and then scrambles off the couch. She starts pulling on her shoes. "Give Sam a call and tell him it's delayed until eight-thirty," she calls out as she grabs her bag. "Carol! I'm leaving."

"Dinner?" Carol sticks her head around the door, and Donna guesses that around here, you get used to the boss suddenly yelling for you.

CJ nods, her keys clattering in her hand. "I forgot."

"Want me to bring the Chinese on my way over?" Carol asks, watching CJ.

"You know what to get?"

Smiling, Carol holds up a scrap of paper. "I've got the list."

"Okay," CJ says, stopping at the doorway. "Let everyone know it's postponed."

"Will do," Carol says, and then CJ's gone.

"I'll tell Sam," Donna offers, falling into step beside Carol.

"Then I'll tell Communications, then Margaret, and then go."

They walk together to the bullpen, and Donna turns towards her desk while Carol heads towards Bonnie. Sitting down, Donna finds the Post-It with Sam's cell number still sitting on her desk. Josh has doodled on the top right-hand corner with dense overlapping scribbles, as if he was trying to get a pen to work. Donna runs a finger over the mark as she dials.

Sam answers after the third ring. She tells him it's been a busy day, and dinner's been postponed an hour. He laughs, says he understands and will stop lurking around CJ's door now. She gives a lady-like snort and teases him for being on time (Sam's general tardiness is infamous), and he admits that he only just got there.

After she hangs up, Donna catches the clock out of the corner of her eye and realises that if the dinner hadn't been postponed, Sam would have been fifteen minutes late. That sounds more like the Sam she knows.

***

The dinner party goes well. Everyone's lively, talking over and around each other, and it only gets louder as they finish the bottles of Californian wine that Sam brought with him. Toby actually smiles.

When the night's over, and Will has spent enough time hanging off Sam's every word, they make their exits. Heading out the door, Bonnie and Margaret both agree that Ginger should have come regardless of her fiancé's birthday. Toby stays back to get Will into a cab, and Donna gratefully accepts Sam's offer of a lift home.

"Will has a case of hero worship," she says after the second traffic light, when she's sure that Sam's sober enough to drive and talk.

Sam's eyes slide away from the road for a second, then he looks ahead like the conscientious driver he is. "It's well-deserved."

Donna blinks at him, at the ease of that comment. "It is?"

"Yeah." Sam nods, looking casually gorgeous in a white linen shirt and dark slacks. "Toby's a great writer."

She laughs, partly because that wasn't what she meant, and partly because Sam's own hero-worship is blindingly clear. "I meant you, not Toby."

"Me?" Sam's head swivels around for a shocked micro-second. Then, it's back to the road.

"Yeah, you."

"Will's the guy who can control the rain," Sam says, and Donna nods. They've all heard that story by now. "I'm the guy who lost the election for him."

There's a shadow in his tone, but it's always been hard to separate Sam's modesty from his self-recrimination. "You did your best. That's all you can do."

"I could have done better," he says quietly, the amber light of the intersection playing on his fingers.

"You did your best." Donna watches the light glow red, and Sam turns to face her.

"Did you know Josh offered to help?"

"He did?"

Sam nods. "Offered to run the campaign. Said he'd have fun showing rural Republicans how politics should be done."

Donna smiles at that. To Josh, any place that doesn't have skyscrapers is automatically 'rural.' He's a city-boy through and through. "When did he say that?"

"When I first told him about my promise. Before I knew I wanted to go through with it. He stopped by my office and said it'd be fun. That there was a certain appeal to playing in the Minor League and wiping the floor with them."

"That sounds like Josh."

"I could have kept him to that promise, you know." The light changes, and Sam drives forward. "I could have told him I couldn't do it without him, and he would have come."

"We were pretty busy in Washington," Donna points out. Sam wasn't there, but she's sure he understands why it wouldn't have been practical for Josh to go down. She doesn't want to say that Josh would choose his job over his friendship; even if it's true (especially if it's true), she doesn't want to say that.

"He would have come," Sam says certainly, and she wonders if Sam realises that Josh isn't that blindly loyal to friends. Josh is a good guy, but there are some things that just aren't in his make-up.

Sam catches her look, and grins. "As much as Josh lives for his job, he loves picking fights with Republicans. Imagine how many rich, uptight snobs he could have offended."

Donna doesn't mean to laugh at Josh, but she can't help giggling. She can perfectly imagine the light of unholy glee in Josh's eyes. "It'd be setting the cat amongst the pigeons."

Sam's laughter is low and warm, and it's very fond. "It wouldn't have been hard to convince him to come."

"But you didn't let him..." She trails off, not quite sure of what she wanted to say, or what she's asking.

Sam shrugs. "I wanted to prove I could do it by myself."

"Oh." She doesn't say that he didn't. Sam is quiet, watching the road ahead. "If you could do it over, would you do it differently?"

Sam blinks. "I'd ask Will to stay."

"Really?"

"He knew the area, knew the groups. He would have run the campaign better."

Sam drives in silence for a while, and Donna sits there, thinking. She wonders if the staffers would have been any easier on Will if he'd come directly from Sam's campaign. Of course, Toby would have given himself an ulcer (or a heart attack) trying to write the speeches on his own, so it was probably for the best that Will came when he did.

But if he hadn't, Sam's job would have been open and waiting for Sam's return.

When Sam pulls up outside her apartment, she says, "Thanks."

"No problem," Sam replies easily. "Tell Josh I said 'hi.'"

Donna tilts her head, watching Sam in the streetlight. "You haven't spoken to him?"

He shrugs one shoulder, like it's not important enough to move two. "Josh is a busy guy."

"He said he left a message for you."

Sam's brows furrow. His lips purse slightly, and after a moment, he says, "Maybe Josh called my old number?"

"I gave him the new one. Handed it to him."

Sam grins. "In your distinctive style of handwriting?"

"I wrote it very plainly," she says, swatting him on the arm. Sam laughs. "First thing tomorrow, I'm asking why he didn't call."

"Donna," Sam says softly, his head bowed so his dark hair falls across his eyes. "Let him be."

"Are you going to start singing a Beatles' medley?"

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "If he doesn't want to see me, there's no point hounding him. He's a busy man."

Donna snorts. "You've known Josh long enough to know that isn't how you treat him. Josh only remembers the personal stuff that will annoy the hell out of you. When it comes to the other stuff, you need to keep pushing until he remembers how a friend should act."

"Donna?" Sam asks softly, seriously. Donna swallows and meets his eyes. "If you have to keep pushing, it's not there."

"But--"

Sam gives her a smile that's a little too knowing and reaches over to grasp her hand. "There are things that you can't force. No matter how hard you try."

Donna pulls her hand away a little quicker than she intended and stumbles out of the rented car. She pulls her jacket tight around her but doesn't close the car door. "You're not taking the job here, are you?"

Sam ducks his chin against his chest, and she has to lean down to see his face. "I don't think so."

"But if Josh had called?"

Sam huffs out a breath and shrugs. "There are some things you can't force."

Nodding, Donna steps away, backing up toward the curb. She waits until the red glow of Sam's taillights disappears before she heads inside.

She climbs the stairs quickly and doesn't fumble with her keys. When she steps inside, her roommate's sitting on the couch with her cat stretched across her lap. Her forehead wrinkles as she looks at Donna, sees the expression on Donna's face, and asks what's wrong.

Donna settles onto the couch and says she probably won't be going out on Friday night.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback can be left here or on [Livejournal](http://community.livejournal.com/inthetallgrass/186780.html?mode=reply).


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